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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038526">scorched earth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/voreizon/pseuds/voreizon'>voreizon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ONF (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Aural Exhibitionism, Degradation, Derogatory Language, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Forced Feminization, M/M, Minecraft, edited tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:15:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/voreizon/pseuds/voreizon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>deep within the pit of yuto's stomach, a new flame—rage—flared. his knuckles blanched white with tension, the grip on his mouse tight. someone would pay for this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mizuguchi Yuto | U/Park Minkyun | MK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>scorched earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen15/gifts">pen15</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>be advised that the tags are not suggestions; i’ve tagged this story to the best of my ability in order to avoid triggering potential readers. proceed with caution.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>minecraft diamonds are a rare commodity. for yuto, who spent half the weekend in a new save, mapping out his world and mining down into the pixelated earth, the prospect of finding diamonds propelled his search forward. the older members paid him no mind, choosing instead to laze around or visit the company’s weight room—only the occasional offer of food managed to pull yuto from his cybernetic trance. <br/>
<br/>
minkyun, at one point late in the evening, planted himself on the ground; pressed into yuto’s side and dozed off as he watched yuto’s computer screen with feigned interest. however endearing yuto found minkyun’s expression of rest—soft, delicate lashes folded neatly across the swells of his cheeks, like the natural fall of a satin sheet—, the dead weight of minkyun’s sleeping form propped against yuto’s arm grew increasingly harder to ignore. as his fingertips, curled around the dingy mouse he’d swiped from changyoon, tingled with the unpleasant sensation of restricted blood flow, yuto heaved a large sigh. <br/>
<br/>
a glance over his shoulder, at minkyun draped around his body, and then to the wall clock that read, in bold, black numbering, “12:34,”  and yuto reached for the escape key. his game, he supposed, could wait until the morning. the tingling spread up through his fingers, chilled his forearm with its static cling. <em> yes </em> —emphasized by another, decisive push of air—, <em> morning </em>. the minecraft launcher sat, still open on yuto’s desktop as he shrugged minkyun’s large figure off of his shoulder. he struggled, one-handed, to pull his friend to his feet, minkyun’s sleep-laced voice goading yuto on before he stumbled forward, leaning on yuto for support.<br/>
<br/>
“d’ja fin’ any...diamon’s...?” his words slurred, and yuto drew his brows together in confusion as minkyun mumbled under his breath, eyes closed shut. their undressed feet shuffled across the foyer’s cold floor in an awkward dance of tired limbs and staggered movement, and yuto cursed his luck—the other members were out of the dorm, had been out for a time. his eyes glued to his computer screen, he’d been too engrossed in his game to notice their absence.<br/>
<br/>
“not yet,” came yuto’s gruff reply, vague, unsure if he had heard minkyun correctly—still, it would be rude to leave his potential question unanswered. the corner of minkyun’s mouth quirked upright, for a split second, in response, and yuto assumed he’d answered correctly. he continued to drag minkyun, whose head lulled side to side with each grueling step, toward his bedroom, sucking in a breath to avoid thinking about the goosebumps prickling the skin of his arm—jostled awake, and slung loose around minkyun’s waist. a flimsy underprop.<br/>
<br/>
having reached minkyun’s bedside, yuto all but flung minkyun into the barrage of blankets and pillows piled atop his mattress. minkyun landed with a small <em> fwup </em>, curled in on himself as soon as his back hit the bed, and yuto took a moment for himself to catch his breath, winded from his unexpected workout. yuto’s eyes hugged minkyun’s body, caught the ebb and flow of his chest as the air from his lungs escaped through his open mouth, lips parted just enough for his breath to pass through. <br/>
<br/>
like this, minkyun looked at peace—though yuto was rather fond of minkyun’s loud, abrasive personality, his sleeping figure offered yuto the rare silent chance to soak in his friend’s beauty. dark locks of hair, velvety smooth, fell like silk into minkyun’s face, ticked his nose and splayed across his cheeks. yuto risked brushing a strand back behind minkyun’s ear, grazed his knuckles against the side of minkyun’s warm face, and his heart kicked rough against his rib cage. minkyun stirred, smacked his lips—chapped and chewed, tinted the deepest shade of rouge from months of abuse. still, yuto’s hand hovered, just shy of minkyun’s head, and yuto drew his fingers around the searing heat of his palm, an unmistakable flush of red.<br/>
<br/>
a beat passed, then two. yuto withdrew his hand; stuffed his paw, clenched tight around the soft of his skin, deep into the pocket of his sweatpants. another moment, and yuto’s heart calmed, fell in sync with minkyun’s light snoring. yuto turned on his heels, called from the doorway in a small, weary voice. <br/>
<br/>
“g’night, hyung.”<br/>
<br/>
instead of sleep, as yuto’s head met his pillow, images of minkyun’s kipping visage plagued his mind. the tint of minkyun’s mouth, full and cracked, blossomed like a rose—the petals of his lips hung ajar, gapped to reveal the pink of his tongue. huddled into himself as he was, minkyun looked petite, fine. lovely. the curves of his face, gentle with sleep, etched themselves into the back of yuto’s eyelids; in the darkness, yuto could make out the bell of minkyun’s nose, the contour of his cheekbones that rested high on his face, charming. pretty, prettier than a girl.<br/>
<br/>
the very thought set yuto’s insides ablaze. <em> prettier than a girl </em>. the heat from before bloomed from yuto’s chest, a throbbing pulse, and spread across his skin in blotchy, bright patches. a wildfire. his ears drummed as his blood rushed to their tips.<br/>
<br/>
yuto’s fire burned throughout the night, the embers of his yearning smoldered fresh even as the elder members trickled into the dorm.<br/>
<br/>
his computer laid, open, casting a cool glow over their shared living space. forgotten, neglected—the minecraft launcher sat like an ancient temptation.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>minkyun’s slow, baritone speech buzzed from yuto’s speakers, echoed off of the studio’s hardwood floors and bounced around the room with a tin-like quality. yuto, slumped against the chilled wall of mirrors, fiddled with the buttons of his phone as he listened to minkyun’s lethargic greeting—a voice-only live, hosted late at night from the company’s practice rooms. his lock screen read the time: just after midnight. the other members had long since packed up their belongings and left; hyojin and changyoon first, followed by jaeyoung and seungjoon.<br/>
<br/>
“when should we expect you back?” seungjoon asked before he took off. yuto followed his hand as he ran his fingers through the thick layer of sweat matted atop his hair, kept his eyes fixed on his leader as he moved through the steps of his dance. <em> go through the motions. act casual.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“later,” curt. “don’t wait up, hyung.”<br/>
<br/>
seungjoon tossed his bag over his shoulder, shrugged yuto’s terse reply off with a simple goodbye—chalked his brusque attitude up to exhaustion. yuto nodded, hummed in return.<br/>
<br/>
yuto had plans. <br/>
<br/>
dawn stretched across the sky in hues of golden sun and jaded night when sleep overtook yuto—extinguished the untamed fires of his heart and filled his mind with pretty, plump flowers and long, faired stems. he awoke with the urgent need to <em> dig, dig, dig </em> until the incessant pounding of his thoughts were replaced with glittering blue gems. as the last member to rouse from slumber, the dorm fell hushed around the patter of his feet, clung to the click of his keys. upon logging into his desktop, the minecraft launcher—and his new save—revealed themselves just as he’d left them.<br/>
<br/>
save for one tiny detail: the diamonds he’d spent countless hours tracking were gone. disappeared without a trace. yuto’s inventory, otherwise, had been left untouched. deep within the pit of his stomach, a new flame—rage—flared. his knuckles blanched white with tension, the grip on his mouse tight. someone would pay for this.<br/>
<br/>
<em>minkyun would pay for this</em>.<br/>
<br/>
the diamond heist was hardly a question of who—but rather, when? and why? minkyun eyed yuto’s screen for a good portion of the weekend, badgered yuto with a volley of questions concerning the game, the mechanics, the <em> diamonds </em>. dread settled in yuto’s chest, heavy and hard, as the realization dawned on him. minkyun’s pretended enthusiasm lured yuto into a false sense of comfort, like an insect swallowed whole from inside the sweet, cushioned mouth of a venus flytrap.<br/>
<br/>
minkyun. pretty—pretty deceitful.<br/>
<br/>
yuto chewed the inside of his cheek in thought, mindlessly thumbing the pad of his finger down his phone case; his anger boiled with each passing minute, steeped in the bubbling heat of his core and flavored minkyun’s metallic voice with hatred. ten minutes. he waited. listened. seethed.<br/>
<br/>
ten minutes, then yuto pounced.<br/>
<br/>
yuto cleared the stretch of studio in a few swift, long strides. at the first glimpse of the practice rooms, he straightened his shoulders—pulled them back, down, and out. he reached for the handle of minkyun’s space, took one final breath to collect himself. <em> act casual</em>.<br/>
<br/>
“...but eggman is okay, he’s—”<br/>
<br/>
“hyung.”<br/>
<br/>
minkyun whipped around in his swivel chair—spun fast, the residual wind rustling the papers tacked to the wall—and yuto flinched at the cry of his voice, a loud yelp ripped from his lungs in surprise. yuto sucked on his top row of teeth, spared a glance at minkyun’s phone, propped up on his desk by a makeshift stand. comments from concerned fans rolled in, flooded his screen. back to minkyun, and yuto watched the whites of his eyes calm, his slacked jaw soften.<br/>
<br/>
“yuto? i thought everyone left already...,” minkyun tried his voice, cleared his throat of shock. “what’s up, man?” the corners of his lips pressed themselves in a line, his bracket smile. his pretty, beautiful, disgusting smile. yuto stood firm, leaned against the sharp rim of the doorframe and bore his eyes into the pool of dimples carved into minkyun’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“i stayed behind to practice,” yuto explained in a dull tone, refused to meet minkyun’s eyes. the simmering, pitted warmth threatened to lash out, an edge gripping onto each harsh consonant as he spoke. “wanted to talk to you.”<br/>
<br/>
minkyun’s smile widened—out of spite? or could minkyun really be that oblivious? <em> eager to please? </em> yuto balled his hands into fists, dug his nails into the pillowy skin of his palms. whatever prompted minkyun’s smile, it pissed him off.<br/>
<br/>
“well, i’m live right now—,” and minkyun gestured toward his set-up, planted his foot on the floor to swing his chair back toward his desk.<br/>
<br/>
<em>not so fast</em>. yuto sprang, caught the arm of minkyun’s seat and leaned in close. his breath, hot, ghosted the shell of minkyun’s ear. fireworks crackled beneath his skin, the whirling of gunpowder sparked—deafened the venom of yuto’s voice as he purred.<br/>
<br/>
“we need to talk,” dropped an octave lower, barely audible over the pounding of minkyun’s eardrums. trapped between yuto’s arms, minkyun resigned to his defeat; he swept his tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to wet his arid mouth. his body slumped, tired. although he trained his eyes on the stream of comments, yuto knew the smile had drained from minkyun’s plucky face. a powerful chill tore down his spine. “i know what you did.”<br/>
<br/>
the live chat surged with activity. <em> where is minkyun? is minkyun okay? is yuto still there?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“i don’t know what you mean,” in a hushed whisper, as though minkyun finally understood the severity of the situation. yuto breathed in response, a gust of fury, as his hands bore down on the foam of the chair’s arms. minkyun squirmed.<br/>
<br/>
<em>wrong answer. </em> yuto stepped closer, invaded the space between minkyun’s legs as he bent himself at the waist. “hyung, do you think i’m stupid?” a simple question, malice woven between the sound of each dissonant letter, and yuto pulled back to meet minkyun’s eyes, watch him sweat under the ferocity of his rage. he plucked a hand from the seat, ran his thumb along the sleek line of minkyun’s jaw before furling his fingers around the soft bulb of his chin. “tell me the truth.”<br/>
<br/>
“i don’t think you’re stupid,” genuine. minkyun took a slow breath in through his nose, searched yuto’s glower for a sign—a quirk of his lip, a crinkle in his eye, anything that might prove this late-night assault a farce. a joke, lighthearted teasing that toed the line of extreme. but the hulking tension, the weight of yuto’s steeled silence, confirmed minkyun’s fears. like a crumpled plant stalk, minkyun wilted into his seat, cast his eyes away from the cruel focus of his friend.<br/>
<br/>
without missing a beat, yuto pressed further, dipped his knee just short of minkyun’s lap. displeased with minkyun’s avoidance, he clicked his tongue in soft, agitated ticks, careful of the microphone’s sensitivity. “do you know what happens to liars,” a pause, “hyung?” yuto spat the formality out like poison; their relationship, a trifle. minkyun swallowed around the growing lump in his throat, made to wet his lips once more before yuto caught the flesh of his tongue between his fingertips. “they’re punished.”<br/>
<br/>
minkyun startled, gagged on the building pressure in his maw as yuto pulled the slick muscle. nails pricked minkyun’s tastebuds, pinched through his tongue and minkyun could not help the rasp of pain that grated past the wreath of his mouth. the perversion of a smirk distorted yuto’s voice, craved minkyun’s distress. “careful,” teasing, “don’t want fuse to hear your pretty voice, do you?” minkyun knitted his brows tight in response. the room buzzed; the throbbing rush of blood to his head spotted his vision with black, and his arms, like dense sheets of lead, dangled helplessly at his sides. “or maybe you do? i knew you were a liar, but a slut, too?”<br/>
<br/>
minkyun recoiled from the word’s sting—soured his face at the consonant’s bite, the implication of promiscuity. another tisk, and yuto released minkyun’s tongue, ran his hands through the roots of minkyun’s dirtied hair, coated in a thin layer of grease. his fingers tangled around minkyun’s long, black strands, yanked a portion of his locks in fervor, forcing minkyun’s stare from the ground. exposed, minkyun’s neck tensed. his adam’s apple bobbled as he tried to swallow again, adjusting to the weight and taste of his dried tongue. a second tug, harder than the last, and minkyun hissed—low and guttural.<br/>
<br/>
“stop this,” a nearly inaudible desperation tinged minkyun’s voice, fearing the worst: no doubt his viewers had picked up on their conversation. anxiety pooled deep in his trunk.<br/>
<br/>
“good girls only speak when they’re spoken to,” yuto jeered, savored the look of disgust that seeped under minkyun’s skin. with his free hand, yuto rolled his fingers between the hem of minkyun’s large shirt; the cloth had dried stale from minkyun’s earlier practice, and as yuto worked the fabric, the rank stench of sweat mingled with minkyun’s sweetness—natural, a rose’s moss. yuto surged forward, intoxicated by the smell. minkyun retched at the heat of yuto’s palm; the burning trail of his hand dragged along the stretch of minkyun’s stomach, warped around each gentle protrusion and jut of muscle until minkyun’s bare chest lay, unshielded, before him.<br/>
<br/>
<em>prettier than a girl, </em> yuto reaffirmed the thought as his eyes feasted on the sight of minkyun’s pecs. the supple, round tissue of his chest heaved, swelled with minkyun’s labored breath. the pinks of his nipples perked, blossomed in full as the cool air of the practice room wafted over them. yuto shifted back on minkyun’s thigh, twisted the strings of minkyun’s hair to the side and swept a curious thumb over a pert bud.<br/>
<br/>
the moan, deep and rumbling, that spilled from minkyun’s lips stirred the heat in yuto’s core, and yuto ground his hips down with the aching desire to touch. “keep your voice down, whore,” insincere. the sickness within him yearned to hear minkyun’s delicious cries, to bask in their debauched glory.<br/>
<br/>
the rapid-fire beat of minkyun’s heart hammered away at his thoughts in a disjointed, jumbled wave of noise. yuto pulled minkyun’s nipple between his fingers, toyed and squeezed the hardened bud with novice hands. the sting of tears welled in the corners of minkyun’s eyes, threatened to fall down his warm cheeks with each suppressed groan. he’d bitten down on his bottom lip, a last-ditch attempt to muffle himself. save face. minkyun squirmed, a fruitless fight—his shame imbued yuto with a newfound confidence. yuto shoved minkyun’s shirt under his chin, released his grip on his hair and groped the soft of his chest. “your tits are amazing, kyun,” and the palpable excitement in yuto’s voice spiked, verged on dangerous. loud. clear. filled minkyun’s head, drowned out the ringing in his ears. could the microphone pick that up? was minkyun going crazy?<br/>
<br/>
“fuck, kyun, i thought you were pretty, but—,” <em> but what? </em> minkyun couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. a warmth swallowed the ring of his nipple, moist and cavernous; swirled around the bud, gnawed his sensitive skin. yuto’s mouth. humiliation lipped the churning recesses of his stomach, coated his tongue with sick. his breast grew slick, wet and tender as yuto hollowed his cheeks around the patch of flesh, sucked his teat swollen. from behind, yuto’s hand hovered, crept down the small of minkyun’s back. he padded his fingers beneath his sweatpants’ elastic, considered dipping his paw into minkyun’s pants.<br/>
<br/>
with an obscene <em> pop</em>, yuto pulled off of minkyun’s chest, a crimson blemish marking the skin he’d suctioned off. in front of him, minkyun’s mottled cheeks shone with the damp stains of tears; his lips, chapped, perspired with sweat, like morning dew glossed over chafed petals. the hunger that strained against the confines of yuto’s leggings sagged on minkyun’s thigh, pressed into the meat of his leg and wrenched a shudder from minkyun. yuto hummed, light, fingers still curled around the trim of minkyun’s pants. contemplated.<br/>
<br/>
yuto gravitated toward minkyun’s mouth—tasted salt, fear. “wonder if your cunt’s as pretty as the rest of you?” and against his better judgement, minkyun sighed into yuto, mixed his tongue with the bitter vulgarity of his voice. fingers sunk underneath the worn elastic, and minkyun arched into yuto’s touch. where did yuto learn this? and why wasn’t minkyun stopping him? yuto inched further down the bow of minkyun’s ass, scorched earth where yuto ended and minkyun began.<br/>
<br/>
terror seized minkyun, charring his nerves black where the pads of yuto’s fingers connected with his skin. the unease that bubbled, electric, underneath his skin grew fierce, overwhelming.<br/>
<br/>
“jus’…jus’ touch me.”<br/>
<br/>
smug, the corners of yuto’s mouth bent upwards, a crooked expression forced against minkyun’s lips. “what’d i say about speaking out-of-turn?” but the leer that bled through his tone betrayed him, condemned his amusement at minkyun’s compliance. “i’ll touch you when i want to.”<br/>
<br/>
minkyun gulped back a whine—a jarring, high-pitched keen trapped in the back of his throat. torture. minkyun submitted to yuto’s inferno, risked his career—his life—by fighting back. the anguish of silence, of yielding control of his body, stoked the embers flickering in yuto’s hearth. he commanded minkyun. a rush of blood, straight to his core, and yuto pawed for minkyun’s heat.<br/>
<br/>
he wanted. <em> god</em>, he wanted.<br/>
<br/>
the rim of minkyun’s muscle flexed, uncertain, as yuto’s finger prodded. minkyun drew a weak breath in through his mouth, felt his lungs tremble with his inhale, and the sheen of fresh tears misted his vision. the thigh yuto rested on shook, rumbled like a quake beneath him and for a moment, he froze in doubt. almost curled his fingers back, conviction faltering. almost. but minkyun stole his diamonds.<br/>
<br/>
he took the plunge.<br/>
<br/>
minkyun’s tight heat engulfed yuto. as the first knot of yuto’s knuckle tore through his hole, minkyun struggled to keep himself upright. he ached, the stabbing pain in his head spread throughout his body; the blackness in his vision blurred together with his tears. <em> hurts, hurts, hurts </em>. a loud sob ripped from his chest, and he ducked his head into the groove of yuto’s neck, sunk his teeth down on his shirt to mute his cries.<br/>
<br/>
yuto stilled, felt the damp stain of minkyun’s tears seep through his shirt and spared a glance at the phone. still recording. a storm of comments poured in from the bottom, filled the screen with laughter, confusion. <em> totally oblivious </em>. “you’re so tight,” he cooed, rested his cheek against the side of minkyun’s head; he twisted his finger, edged himself further inside. slow. minkyun tensed, clamped down harder as his body adjusted to the burn of yuto’s raw digit. “your cunt feels so good.”<br/>
<br/>
dirty praise. spittle tumbled from minkyun’s mouth, weak—his sobs reduced to a heave, a shake. dry, like the torrid heat of his throat, like the throb of his ass. yuto’s breath traced the shell of his ear, rustled the hair on his nape like autumn wind. a sharp contrast to his cruelty; comfortable, familiar.<br/>
<br/>
another twist, and minkyun jerked forward, curled into yuto’s embrace. the burden of yuto’s desire bore down on minkyun’s thigh, pressed into his leg—a harsh reminder; <em> this </em> yuto was not familiar, not his yuto.<br/>
<br/>
<em>this </em> yuto rolled his hips against each tremble of minkyun’s thigh, chasing release like an untamed flame. nothing left untouched. seared. reduced to ashes. under his breath, yuto grunted—primal, balmy puffs of air clung to the sweat on minkyun’s neck, suffocating.<br/>
<br/>
yuto’s hips lurched, rutted into minkyun’s own with an erratic hunger, a need for contact. his knuckle wreathed into minkyun. the sweltering smog of his hellfire fed on minkyun’s heat, grew stronger with each flick of his wrist. blinding pain coursed through every fiber of minkyun’s being, felt as though his body burned at the stake. his shoulders crumpled further into yuto, the shriveled remnants of a flower—withered and pale.<br/>
<br/>
white, then black. stained the front of minkyun’s sweats dark, the weight of his crime.<br/>
<br/>
minkyun’s eyelids drooped, fatigued—were they closed? he couldn’t tell. the darkness that swarmed his vision, clouded his mind, felt safe. far away from the blazing fire. yuto withdrew his hand from minkyun’s sweatpants, pulled his finger from the pulsing spasms of his cunt with a gentle touch. disoriented, minkyun buried his face in the scent of yuto, nosed at his collarbone; a naivety born from whiplash, depraved of compassion.<br/>
<br/>
in a haze, yuto brushed his lips against minkyun’s skin—a phantom kiss, ghosted over minkyun’s temple—as he rose from the chair. before minkyun could stir from his exhaustion, wake up in a frenzy, yuto reached across the back of the chair for the phone. wordless, he ended the recording, stared at the blank screen for moment in waiting. the influx of comments had calmed toward the end. most viewers assumed minkyun had fallen asleep, dozed off after a long day of practice.<br/>
<br/>
<em>not entirely untrue</em>, yuto sounded a satisfied tone. he placed the phone down on the desk, face up and near minkyun; he’d wake soon, and he’d be sore. the least yuto could do, considering, was save him time fumbling among his things.<br/>
<br/>
yuto made for the door, planned to gather his belongings before the short trek home, when minkyun’s voice, feeble and small, called from behind him.<br/>
<br/>
“hey...i’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
yuto grasped the handle, gave thought to minkyun’s apology. he threw his head back, took in the wreckage—minkyun’s eyelashes, tacky and wet with tears, fanned over the swells of his damp cheeks like wilted leaves: deflated and defeated. the colorless, wrinkled blossoms of his lips bulged, heavy from abuse. blotches of rouge soiled his complexion, bloomed in a myriad of pinks and reds across his skin; mixed with the purples lining his chest, a bouquet of revenge. pretty. prettier than a girl.<br/>
<br/>
<em>beautiful</em>.<br/>
<br/>
yuto swung the door open. “we’re even.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it’s been years since my last dabble in smut, but the onf tag’s been popping off recently and i thought i’d try my hand at writing a short one-shot for a neglected pair.</p>
<p>thank you to pen, without whom this story wouldn’t exist. both the concept and the motivation to keep writing were born from our mid-afternoon fantasy talks, and i’m eternally grateful for your continued help and support. i love you, dude. (no homo.) (sfw.)</p>
<p>i toyed with the idea of posting this to a burner account, but ultimately, i’m proud of my work and i stand by it. before an angry mob storms the comments or my twitter notifications, please know that i wrote this with mk and u’s fictitious personas in mind; their celebrity and their person are separate entities. creative writing is a safe, healthy outlet to explore trauma and outlandish ideas that, in practice, would pose a danger to the self and others. i do not think any of the onf members, and especially u, are capable of assault.</p>
<p>110920. updated the tags to reflect the dubious nature of this story. please refrain from jumping to conclusions before reading an entire fictional work. draw your own informed opinions.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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